


Desert Sand

by SassyElfFriend



Series: What Is and What Could Be [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Feelings Realization, Mutual Pining, New Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Solavellan Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyElfFriend/pseuds/SassyElfFriend
Summary: Ellana and company have a rough time reaching the Forbidden Oasis for the first time. Follow as Lavellan and Solas begin their romantic relationship in a stolen moment in the midst of their harrowing reality.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan
Series: What Is and What Could Be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619122
Kudos: 26





	Desert Sand

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the 14 days of DA Lovers' Prompt on Tumblr. I have wanted an excuse to dig into the Solavellan romance for years now. Hopefully it's not to gushy and ooc. I'm hopeless for these two. <3

Solas had been given an abundance of opportunities over his long and illustrious lifetime to ponder the manner of his death. 

He had survived countless horrors: rampaging beasts, burning buildings, magical backlash from failed spell work, assassination attempts beyond counting. In a particularly embarrassing moment, he very nearly asphyxiated from swallowing a chicken bone at an especially dreary formal dinner held at one of Junes’ temples. He could still hear his thunderous guffaws as he taunted Solas about “choking on his aspirations”, the smug bastard. 

He had braved both the profane and the mundane to accomplish feats deemed impossible by even the most accomplished of his kin. And, yet, it seemed that he was slated to die at the hands of a naïve and overly optimistic Dalish woman. 

Had they continued upon their predetermined path; the motley crew accompanying the Inquisitor would have been just over halfway across the Empire of Orlais on their return to Skyhold. Instead, one Ellana Lavellan, eyes brimming with excitement at the possibility of charting the unknown once more, saw fit to follow a hazy rumor concerning a reportedly “Elfy looking” construct on the edge of the desert wastes. Their companions had registered their distinct lack of enthusiasm at delaying their return to their mountain refuge immediately and, in the case of a particularly woeful and barrel-chested dwarf, emphatically. If he were being honest with himself, Solas would admit to cautious curiosity as well as his own tempered trepidation at the prospect of finding a portion of the remnants of his people. However, cursing the tightness of the vivid red skin of his now sun burnt face, he was not currently in a mood to be so honest. 

As the relentless sun in the Western Approach beat down upon their heads, Solas openly scowled at his feet and resisted the urged to pick at the split in his dry, cracked lip. Their party had been venturing west from their last established camp in the approach for three days, searching for the temple rumored to be located in the region. He did, of course, have an inkling of exactly what this temple was, but time and the forming of the veil had eschewed his memory of its exact location. 

His companions’ collective stamina was critically low after being forced to ration both food and water after their first day of travel. Given the report from scout Harding on the location they were headed, the group should have reached the temple by the late afternoon of that first day out. Solas narrowed his eyes against the suns glare and stared once more at the endless horizon. Still nothing in the landscape changed as the sands writhed and swam all around. 

His gaze caught on the reddening skin of the Inquisitors neck before him as she stopped once more to check the map and swipe the sweat from her brow. There was tension in the stiff lines of her shoulders. The Iron Bull stomped over to offer his appraisal of their position and possible course of action, which earned him a withering glower and an indignant huff of breath as she snatched up the map and continued their miserable crawl forward. 

Solas tried not to grin outright at this reaction. 

Ellana Lavellan was many things: beautiful in body and soul, wholly kind, madly intelligent, and wickedly cunning. But a navigator she was not. 

“You maybe want to stop for a rest here, Inquisitor,” Varric called from the back ranks. The dwarf seemed earnest in his concern, if a bit frustrated at their predicament. “Maybe fresh eyes can help us figure out where in the void we’ve wandered off to.” 

This, as it happens, was precisely the wrong thing to say in that moment. Ellana whipped around faster than Solas had ever seen her move. Her nearly white blond hair, piled in a sweaty curling mass atop her head, shook loose in wisps that stuck to her face and neck at odd angles. Pale violet eyes flashed dangerously, promising to exact penance for daring to suggest that matters had gotten out of hand. Solas had never seen her so much as raise her voice in anger, let alone become this unhinged. 

Ellana slashed her hand violently in the air, as if to physically cut away his suggestion. “We can’t stop now! We’re very nearly there. Stopping for a break is an unnecessary waste of time!” 

Bull took this moment to place a heavy hand on her shoulder. His good eye speared her in place as he tried to convince her to relent in her frenzied drive to reach their destination or, more likely, die trying. 

“Boss, you’re exhausted and dangerously dehydrated. Take a minute to rest, take a drink from your water skin, and then we can push forward.” Ellana responded to his request by jerking out of the giants grip and trying to continue on her way. She made it exactly two steps before Bull had her thrown over his shoulder like a very angry sack of kittens thrashing about. She was too weak to dislodge herself from her position, although the possibility of escaping his hulking grip seemed equally unlikely had the lithe little Dalish First been at full strength. 

Solas turned to study the horizon as he vaguely listened to her chorus of “how dare you”s and “put me down this instant”s. He thought, somewhat irritated by her stubborn insistence that had landed them lost in the middle of the desert to begin with, that having her neutralized for the moment was for the best. At least, insofar far as the welfare of the group was concerned. 

He took the opportunity to remove his cowl and allow the stifling breeze to refresh his overheated scalp. Running his gaze upon the expanse before him, his eyes caught an aberration in the otherwise seamless landscape. Squinting, he narrowed his focus on what he thought he was seeing. 

Varric wandered over from where he had halfheartedly been observing Ellana and Bull to stand at his elbow. “Are you seeing that too, Chuckles” he asked, using a hand to block the blinding light and leaning slightly in the direction of the distant form. 

“Indeed I am, Master Tethras.” 

Groaning in relief, Varric turned to get the squabbling pairs attention. Hope and desperation in equal measure drove the party as swiftly as they were able in their weary state. As they neared, the form took shape. First into rocky canyons, and then into a cool, misty oasis in the middle of the pitiless wastes. After setting up camp in record time, the group nearly ran, heedless, into the pool below where the temple would await them. After slaking their parched throats, and deciding that they had earned a well-deserved reprieve after their journey, each took to their own leisurely pursuits. Varric sat in the shade with his notes, working on his latest novel. Bull lumbered back to camp to work on cooking them their first real meal in three days, having caught several unfortunate fennecs for a proper stew. Solas slowly unraveled his foot wraps and rolled up the legs of his breeches to soak his aching feet. The first touch of slightly chilly water on his abused skin was blissful. It took much of his force of will to resist moaning out loud at the sensation. He leaned back, propping himself up on his hands and contentedly taking in his surroundings. When his sight fell upon their formerly harried Herald of Andraste, he drew a soft breath. 

She had stripped down to nothing but an oversized tunic atop her smalls and was floating in the shallow pool grinning gleefully at the cloudless sky above. All of the distress and frantic temper seemed to bleed out of her being, dissolving into the nothing. She briefly submerged her head and reemerged giggling like the carefree girl she might have been, if not for a great many injustices and responsibilities thrust upon her by birth and Solas’ own intervention. Still, the expression she wore endeared her to him in a way that he could not explain, even to himself. 

Of course, after months of journeying, and occasionally even flirting with the aforementioned young woman, Solas could not help but to remark upon the beauty of her form. Ellana was beautiful by any standard, with her fair skin and long curling locks that reached the middle of her back when unbound. She was unusually small and petite, even by elven standards. Her features were thin and delicate without ever becoming overly sharp. He had, on many occasions, had to mentally shake himself into attention during their many discussions after being distracted by the perfect bow of her lips. His eyes followed her avidly as she moved in gentle strokes, barely disturbing the surface of the water as she moved lazily towards a sandbank opposite the roaring falls. 

Once there, Ellana seemingly became more animated and began moving the wet sand into clumps on the embankment. Her expression became more focused, as though she had taken on a task that required a great amount of thought. Her movements were deliberate, as though she were...molding something from the sand. His head quirked to the side, puzzled as to what she might be doing with the muck that now coated her from elbows down. Ever curious, Solas slowly stood and waded his way across the pool to where she sat scooping the sand. She seemed not to notice him as she continued thoughtfully shaping the sand beneath her dainty fingers. 

He came to a stop just behind her, observing the shapes as they took form. Or, rather, as Ellana tried giving them form. The sand in the area where she worked was deeply saturated by the surrounding water, making for a soupy mixture ill-suited to sculpting. The results of her labor, thus far, was a collection of lumpy sand piles in varying sizes. Solas was loathe to disrupt her concentration but, after several minutes and no revelations as to what she was attempting to make, curiosity overwhelmed his respectful reticence. 

“I see that the sand is not taken with your artistic vision,” Solas teased. Ellana jumped slightly, noticing his presence. She flitted a glance in his direction that was gone nearly as soon as it had landed. Solas couldn’t help but find this strange. Ellana had, in their short time together thus far, not expressed a particular shyness towards any in her inner circle. Yet she shifted nervously on the ground before him now. A lovely shade of pink rose and clashed noticeably with the sunburnt red skin of her cheeks and highlighting faint freckles across the bridge of her nose that he had not previously noticed around the tracing of her vallaslin. Her hair, still twisted into a knot on her head, was now sodden and stuck to her head in one amorphous clump. She summoned a tentative grin and turned to face him once more. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it art,” Ellana claimed, "more of... An apology gone wrong.” 

This served to confuse Solas even more. 

“Could you... Elaborate, Lethallan?” He asked cautiously. 

Her grin twitched ever so slightly at the familial term. Ellana gestured dramatically at the sand piles. “I was trying to make sand sculptures of our group. Little figures that look like us. I thought it might serve as an apology to everyone for my temper tantrum earlier.” 

At this she gave a sheepish shrug and continued. “The children of my clan used to do something similar, but with snow on the rare occasions that we traveled far enough south to see any.” The reminder of her eclectic family caused her to drop her gaze once more to her sandy fingers. 

Solas thought he understood the wistfulness of her expression. It could hardly be easy to be separated from everything and everyone you had ever known. As quaint and backwards as he found the Dalish, in general, to be as a culture, he could not restrain himself from finding out more about the utterly charming elf he had come to admire. Also, he was simply a hahren at heart with a penchant for showing off. 

“Perhaps I could assist you in making the sand more amenable to your needs?’ Reaching out with an elegant twist of his wrist, Solas directed a stream of mana at the ground below and drew a portion of the water from the sand around them and redirected it to the pool behind them. 

Ellana remained riveted by the simple but unknown spell that he cast so casually. Once the dim glow faded from his palm, she reached down and squashed a bit of sand in her hand finding it perfect for maintaining the shapes she wanted. 

Solas could see the questions brimming in her inquisitive mind. It was a quality he found most endearing and familiar. He had met a rare few with as much intellectual curiosity as she. Particularly from individuals not limited by the scope of religious dictation and cultural stricture. He certainly had not expected such from her, considering her genuine reverence of the misremembered elven pantheon of modern Dalish lore. 

“What sort of spell was that?” 

He mentally edited his response as he bent to sit beside her on the, now much dryer, stretch of sand. There would always be more questions with her, of that he had learned very well. He took a pinch of sand between his thumb and forefinger, grinding them to inspect its grit. 

“That particular spell falls within the realm of earth magic. In my journeys through the fade, I discovered that such spells were used mainly in the irrigation of crops. Ensuring that they had the correct balance of moisture to produce a bountiful harvest.” 

Ellana quirked her head at this, mischief overriding the hunger for knowledge for a brief moment. “Oh? I take it these spells were not typically used to impress wide eyed elven maidens then?” 

Oh, she was a wicked little thing. He felt his own smile tugging lightly at the corners of his mouth. “I may have found a use better suited to my desires, as it were.” 

She held his gaze for a moment and her expression gentled. Ellana sat down fully on the sand and faced the pool. She skimmed her leg slowly along the surface of the water as she lost herself in thought. There was a tangle of emotion that she had learned to keep suppressed since joining the inquisition that gripped her throat, demanding her attention. The two of them had shared little of their personal lives beyond what was prudent to the success of their mission. Mild flirtation aside, their relationship was professional with occasional bouts of teaching or sharing of knowledge. Her emotions were very personal and, though she had no reason to believe it, Ellana felt that she could share this burden with him without fear of judgement. 

“Sometimes, when I cast certain spells or we pass a familiar looking bit of land, I am reminded so much of my clan that it... Hurts.” Her eyes dropped to her lap where her hands wrung together lightly in thought. “It is odd to feel so alone and... Apart from myself.” 

Ellana reached down once more and gingerly embedded the tips of her fingers in the earth beneath where they sat. 

“My magic is the one source of comfort that this life yet affords me. Keeper Deshanna wove magical training with studies on elven culture and history. I still can’t summon a flame without hearing her voice recounting the tale of Elgar’nan and his triumph over the Sun.” 

Solas watched as her own languid flow of mana pooled in her palms and began seeping into the ground. 

“Actually, using my own magic taught me even more. It allowed me to reach out and discover the world within. The thread of focus that connects me to the ephemeral. The hum of life resonating in everything around us.” 

Her magic manifested as tendrils of tender green veins moving and seeking deep into the sand and soil around the pair. Solas watched in rapt fascination even as he strained eagerly to hear her words. 

“I listened to everything the earth spoke to me through my magic. It led me to pockets of the world that once belonged to the People, buried and forgotten for a thousand years. Stone sentinels standing vigil through the ages. As though waiting to be discovered by their kin once more.” 

Solas tried not to grimace at this. If only she knew who “her people” really were...who precisely stood against the ravages of time to this tranquil age... 

“I was convinced that if I could find even a piece of what we once were... that I could use it to help us grow...” 

A pulse shuddered through the ground and nature suddenly sprang forth to greet them. Verdant stalks of elfroot rose leafy and tall, ready to harvest. In the water, the shoots of blood lotus breached the surface and grew fronds before their eyes. The already crystalline waters of the pool glittered and churned in a joyous dance. The sand warmed beneath them enough to soothe their aching bodies. And a single flowering plant grew at the fringes of their little retreat, one that Solas did not recognize but that caused Ellana’s eyes to widen in wander. 

She jolted to her feet in a crouch and rushed over to observe the plant up close. Puzzled, Solas followed after her. She was simply staring at the little thing, almost as though in awe of it. The body of the plant looked almost tree-like, with smooth tear shaped leaves clustered around the top and leaving the base clear. Perched about these leaves sat flowers of brilliant red, its petals flared about the center like a lady's skirt in motion. Ellana reached out as if to touch it, but stopped short and withdrew her hand in reverence. 

After several moments of silence, Solas remarked, "Such a lovely plant to be growing in such a barren place. It is a rare and miraculous specimen.” 

“This is a desert rose,” Ellana said without removing her eyes from the blooms. “I have never seen one in person. Just read about them in a discarded journal by some long-deceased adventurer I found near some ruins near the Vinmark mountains. There was a dry, shriveled bloom in between the pages where he wrote about them...” 

Ellana tapered off, swept up in the memory of a memory of simpler times. She reached out again, stopping just short of touching the delicate bud. She did not withdraw this time, but merely moved her in a petting motion over it. As though greeting a spoiled pet at the end of a prolonged absence, almost adoring the little shrub. 

“It is... Humbling... To see such beauty survive here. It’s amazing that there are things that can be both breathtakingly beautiful and yet strong enough to weather the worst conditions surrounding them. In moments like this I am reminded how much I have yet to learn from this world.” 

Solas studied her for several long moments. Having her share this moment with him was humbling. He felt utterly unworthy of her trust in matters of her past and inner most self, knowing as he did how very perilous a path she had now been placed upon. He already knew how her story would end as though he were reading her own ancient and forgotten tale in a moldy tome lost in time. And yet, seeing the mist in her violet eyes and having witnessed time and again the beauty of her indomitable spirit, he knew that hers was a tale he would never forget. Regardless of the thousands of years both before and beyond their time brief time together. 

He reached forth and stroked the petals of the largest and most vibrant rose, luxuriating in the silky texture. Smiling, Solas managed to capture her attention once more. She tensed as he plucked the bloom from its host and held it in his palm. 

“The magic you displayed; do you know from whence it came?” She shook her head numbly as she looked from the rose in his hand to his shining blue grey eyes. “I have discovered that such magic is very closely related to that of the ancient elves. They too cast spells that shaped nature around them. It is said that they could grow trees that stretched forever higher. They created plants and crops that bloomed for a hundred years without the need of tending. Some for their exquisite beauty, others specifically for the most potent and deadly brews. None are remembered in this time.” 

He shifted his feet and looked down at his hands once more. Ellana was riveted by this revelation. Taking a half step towards him, and leaving only half an arms worth of distance between them, she asked, “You saw this in the fade? The memories of our people actually shaping the world?” 

Solas’ smile grew, but he kept his eyes on his hands. “Yes. These are but the least of the marvels that I have witnessed, if you can believe it.” Listening to him recount these memories of Elvhenan, she very nearly could believe that this fantastical world existed as much as the world surrounding her at that very moment. What he did next, however, is what nearly stole her breath away. 

Finally raising his gaze to hers, Solas lifted the rose and placed it delicately behind her pointed ear. He was careful to touch as little as possible of her skin as he brushed away the stray hairs and ran his thumb once more across the petals before dropping his hand to his side. They regarded each other in silence, and Solas considered her as he would one of his prized murals. He seemed to search her face and tilted his head briefly, without breaking their mutual silence. Reaching down, he plucked three more blooms and set about nestling them amongst the wild mass atop her head. He allowed himself to catch a long strand that had fallen loose of the whole before twisting it and returning it to the others in her bun. 

“It is astounding what rare and miraculous things surround us each day,” he said, eyes glued to hers. “To waste them would be a great shame.” He decided that he had never seen anything as lovely as she, sunburned and covered in gritty sand and desert roses, beamed her happiness for he alone to witness. 

They stood there, near enough to touch yet simply staring silently into each other's eyes, allowing the feel of being near brim into something new... 

Varric chose this moment to strut around the corner and announce that their supper was ready to serve and he could not be blamed if he and Iron Bull ate it all before they could make it back to camp, effectively ending their moment. 

Solas gave a slight gulp and stepped away from Ellana and turning as if to face the direction of the camp behind them. He could feel a touch of heat far deeper than that of the sun creep across his high cheekbones. “Perhaps we should return to the others, lest we’re left with rumbling stomachs for a fourth night.” 

He could feel Ellana shifting behind him and passing by him in her still damp tunic. She paused a few paces ahead and glanced coyly over her shoulder at him. 

“Come along then, hahren! We should feed you before the howling of your empty belly attracts a pack of those blighted hyena’s we heard earlier.” 

“And what of your apology?” 

She laughed without turning and replied, “I suppose groveling and bribery could work just as well.” 

He surprised himself as he released a barely discernible throaty chuckle at her impish remark. He allowed her to continue on before him, content to follow the enchanting sway of her hips all the way back to their shared fire. 

**** 

Solas kept his head bowed and covered by a plain gray cowl, slumping his posture slightly to disguise the lankier height of his frame from any who might take notice of him. He silently wove himself into the mass of busy servants preparing the Winter Palace for the imminent Exalted Council. As long as he kept moving, giving the appearance of work, none questioned the presence of another elf in the halls this day. 

Taking the servant passages and avoiding Orlesian and inquisition personnel alike, he maneuvered his way into the royal guest wing assigned to the most prominent representatives of the Inquisition. His agents had informed him of which chambers were reserved for Ellana. 

Ducking swiftly into an alcove, he busied himself pretending to polish an already immaculate bit of gilding along a portrait of Emperor Freyan Valmont. Two servants, not under his employ, scuttled past his pseudo hiding spot without noticing his presence. 

“There’s no way that the Inquisition will allow these prissy nobles to have their way just because they called some silly council.” The human woman stumbled over her skirt while balancing a bundle of sheets on her hip and grimacing. “There’s gonna be a reckoning ‘round the whole of Thedas before their work is done, mark my words!” 

The elven man accompanying her with a large bottle of polish and several disgusting rags snorted derisively at this. “I’m sure there will. Don’t expect these prigs actually care about anything besides keeping their arses firmly in their fancy thrones though. ‘Fuck the little people’ and all that.” 

Solas found that he quite agreed with this assessment of southern Thedosian politics. Had they known the measure of said reckoning, however, he doubted they would retain such glibness. 

“I heard the Inquisitor is ‘sposed to be arriving shortly. I saw their soldiers all lining up to be her honor guard. I swear the line of knights went on for a mile, at least!” 

“I saw them too. Nearly went blind seeing all them shiny helmets in one place.” 

“Maybe that’ll keep them knobs from glaring at ‘em long. ‘Hail the Inquisition!’” 

The pair snickered conspiratorially, rounding the corner and vanishing from his sight once more. Feeling the press of time now, he jogged down the remaining length of the long hall and stopped at the last and grandest of the ornately carved doors at the end. Glancing over his shoulder to confirm his privacy for the moment, he held a glowing hand over the handle causing it to unlock and swing open on silent hinges. He sent his silent thanks to the elf with his polish for his aid in keeping his noise, and therefore his suspicious presence at his former lover’s door, concealed. 

Closing the door behind him, he stilled as his eyes swept the room. He had but a moment to complete his self-appointed task and sneak away with any hope of remaining undiscovered by his former organization. His eyes settled on the desk, already dressed with extra quills and sheaths of paper for their expected dignitary should she have need of it. There on the corner of the sturdy wooden surface, a vase barely contained a riot of freshly cut flowers from the royal gardens. Among the sprigs of lavender, tulips, and sunflower Solas placed a single perfectly preserved desert rose. The bud was just barely visible amongst the horde of others in the overflowing vase, but he knew instinctively that as soon as her gaze fell upon the boquet Ellana would notice his addition and quite possibly understand his silent message. 

It would be the only contact he had had with her outside of the fade in over two years. He had neither the courage nor the opportunity to reveal his identity to her after the events of Corypheus’ defeat. The loss of the orb left him reeling and without a sound plan to move forward as a member of an organization with a now completed purpose. He feared the questions he knew she would ask him at her first opportunity nearly as much as he feared giving her the answers he had long withheld from her. 

Sparing the briefest moment to gaze at his secret ‘message’, Solas took a small shuddering breath and crept back to the door. Listening for any sound in the hallway beyond he opened the door just wide enough to slip through and carried himself back the way he came. His posture remained slouched and his gait quick but slightly heavy, mirroring the fatigue of the working class around him. He paused at a junction that would circumvent the main areas of the palace and listened. In the avenue beyond, he could hear the trumpets announcing the arrival of another important guest. His heart beat unevenly for a moment. It would be Ellana and her retinue, according to the couple he had overheard minutes before. 

In a split-second decision that he second guessed immediately, Solas changed directions and took a path that he knew lead to a vista dotted with columns that offered a perfect view of the avenue of approach. Grabbing a tray that had been left abandoned, he melted into the crowd of nobles pressing to the rails to see the approaching spectacle. He kept his head down and covertly watched as he saw her riding forth on an armored steed flanked by the ambassador and her commander. His stomach turned bitterly at the absence of her favorite mount, a wild hart she had affectionately named Revas. 

His breathing stopped momentarily upon seeing her in the waking world once more. Her posture was straight, as was her gaze as she listened to her advisors beside her and chose to ignore both the glowering of the Fereldans and the preening of the Orlesians on the balconies flanking either side of the path. Her face remained carefully blank, free of both expression and the vallaslin that had once graced her proud brow. Even from this distance he could read the heaviness in her eyes. Her lovely pale irises were dull, missing the spark of enthusiasm and voracious curiosity he had come to love from her. It broke his ancient heart anew to see it. 

Her hair curled in a wave to form a simple chignon at the base of her neck with the bottom of her still lengthy tresses that could not be so contained pulled through the center of the bottom in a stylized ponytail. He lamented the distance that he had to keep between them as he remembered the feel of that single strand slipping through his fingers in a desert not so very long ago. He could imagine placing another flower at the base of her chignon, like a jeweled hair pin. 

Solas had to forcefully pull himself away as the group came closer, raising the chance of his discovery the longer he remained. He flowed through the gawkers and left the tray sitting on a small table opposite where he picked it up. He carried on his altered path towards the storage area near the courtyard in the rear of the building containing an eluvian. He took a moment to harden himself for the unpleasant events he knew were to follow, and then stepped through the shimmering surface of the mirror to begin his din’anshiral. 

There would come a time later that evening, after greeting old friends and making plans for days filled with both revelry and politics, that Ellana would fall to her bed in exhaustion. Her eyes pricking with tears at the constant reminders of her most dearly missed and still absent companion. Before succumbing to a fitful rest, her eyes would alight upon the explosion of color upon her desk. And, as Solas had expected, her eyes would be drawn to a small single spot of deep crimson among the bunch. She would reach out, a near perfect imitation of her first encounter with the specimen, and brush her fingers in the air over its beauty in reverence. The other hand would then reach up and touch the ear where he had placed an almost identical version of this same rose, before reaching back and finding it perfectly preserved by her magic in the very spot he had thought to find it as he watched her from the veranda. Her eyes would fill with tears and his message would be received just as he had hoped. 

First, that this council marked a different sort of beginning. And, second, that she would need to continue to be strong in the face of what she now faced in order to survive.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my lovely friend for editing this piece for me! At least it makes sense, I think. lol! This is the first fan fiction I've ever written and the first time in years that I've had an excuse to write anything. Please let me know your thoughts and criticism! I truly want to improve my skills.


End file.
